


Pulse

by littlewerewolftori13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, John has a sexuality crisis, M/M, Reichenbach Feels, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Sherlock just really likes to take John's pulse, Someone sit the poor baby down and tell him about bisexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewerewolftori13/pseuds/littlewerewolftori13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5+1<br/>Five times Sherlock took John's pulse and one time John took Sherlock's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John felt like he'd maybe set himself up for this one. 

He'd just been sitting in his chair, reading and enjoying the warmth from his cup of tea and the fire, and most definitely ignoring Sherlock. That's where he felt maybe he'd gone wrong, even if the arse deserved it.

Sherlock had been in a snit about a case for three days. He would alternate between pacing while loudly cursing Scotland Yard for their collective idiocy and inability to move faster then a snail, and curling up on the sofa with his back facing the room. For three whole days. 

John had been lenient and tried to be as helpful as possible for the first day and a half, but things had quickly escalated into a war in the kitchen when Sherlock decided the kettle had a higher purpose than making tea and had dripped several different concentrations of chlorine on it effectively ruining it. John had stormed out and spent a miserable couple hours in the cold, first walking off his anger, then going to buy a new kettle. By the time he reached the store, he was sniffling and regretting rushing out before he could grab his scarf and gloves. By the time he got home he was freezing and miserable and certainly on his way to being sick. And then, the final straw was when he walked back into the flat and saw Sherlock curled into his chair by the fire, sipping fresh tea assuredly made by Mrs. Hudson. 

John had been ignoring Sherlock since then. At first Sherlock just commented at how childish John was being and ignored him back, but close to the end of the day Lestrade texted with a slight breakthrough in the case and Sherlock got ready to whisk off and investigate it. John had simply walked off to his room to prepare for bed as Sherlock followed him, trying to convince him to come, then stood at the bottom of his stairs and hurled insults at his back. Sherlock had gone off in a huff, and come back in an even worse mood, slamming the door and grabbing his violin. John simply grabbed the ear plugs out of his bedside drawer and drifted off again.

This morning so far, he had been approached by Sherlock and intensely stared at no less than three times, but he would not break. He had his breakfast while Sherlock paced and yelled at thin air, threw things (mostly pillows thank goodness), and generally had a tantrum.

But this. This was new. Even by Sherlock's standards. So yeah, maybe he had pushed the detective to this, drove him out of his comfort zone so much by being present physically but not emotionally, that the detective needed to reassure himself. By taking John's pulse. And kneeling by his chair with his forehead pressed into his arm.

Finally, Sherlock's head rose from John's arm and he warily searched John's face, as if waiting for John to rebuke him and ignore him again. 

John sighed. He was tired of ignoring Sherlock, and his life was much less interesting without the detectives sometimes infuriating presence anyways. 

"Tea?" John smiled gently at the detective.


	2. Chapter 2

John ducked behind a low garden wall. He could hear the thief they were chasing approaching his hiding spot and silently cursed. He had separated from Sherlock two streets ago, hoping to corner the thief, but Sherlock had underestimated them somehow and gotten locked in a building.

Now the thief was waving a small pistol around threateningly and screaming threats and John didn't even have his Sig. John inched backwards, carefully moving along the length of the wall until he thought he was behind one of the large bushes that periodically lined the courtyard. 

He slowly raised his head, ready to duck back down if the thief was in sight, but silently cheered and quickly jumped over the wall to peer around his new cover to find the thief. They were pointing the gun at the last point they had seen John, and were approaching quickly, screaming obscenities. 'Moron', John thought as he waited until the thief was past his hiding spot, almost far enough for them to discover that John had eluded them. 

He burst out from behind the bush, tackling the thief from the side. They struggled with the gun, and he flinched as it went off, but he succeeded in grabbing their wrist and twisting until the gun fell from their grip. He subdued them quickly, pushing one of their arms almost out of socket until they settled, crying out for mercy. John let off a bit and searched for something to secure them until the police showed, quickly deciding on one of their shoelaces. He plucked it from the boot and laced up their arms solidly, then leaned them against the low wall, grabbing the gun and absentmindedly texting Lestrade his location. 

He quickly texted Sherlock, but there was no response. He looked back at the building Sherlock was in, but his view was blocked by another bush.

It didn't take Lestrade long to show, and as soon as they had secured the thief, John ran to the building Sherlock was in. He could see now that it had locked from the outside, and he cursed that he had only showed up to see the thief slamming the door shut, then turning to see him trying to get back around the corner. 

A thought ran through his mind and he guiltily reached back and pulled the gun he had habitually placed in his waistband as soon as he had heard the cops. 'Well', he thought, 'I can give it back to Lestrade in a second'. He pounded on the door.

"Sherlock!" No response. "Get away from the door!" He listened carefully for another two seconds, but as he heard a soft "John?" come from the police still gathered in the courtyard where they were dealing with the thief, he knocked loudly one more time and quickly shot the lock. He tossed the gun over to where someone would clearly see and collect it as they rounded the corner, then leaned back to build up power and kicked the door open. 

He ran inside, searching the first room and not finding anything. He ran through the doorway and entered a hall with five other doors not counting a stairwell. He dove into the closest one to his right, moving through the rooms as he started to panic, still not finding Sherlock. 

Finally, in the last one to his left, he found him. Sherlock was sitting against the wall, legs drawn up to his chest and staring blankly at the other wall. John ran to him, sliding to his knees beside the genius. Sherlock shifted his gaze slowly, as if in a trance, but his gaze sharpened as he registered John's presence. 

He suddenly gasped in a breath, grabbing at John's arm and at the back of his neck, pulling himself up onto his knees and closer. 

"I heard a shot. I couldn't see anything. I only saw you dive at them and then- " He broke off, shuddering and closing his eyes. John steadied him. 

"It was nothing, I just couldn't get it out of their hand fast enough, the gun was pointed away." He rubbed at Sherlock's back and arms reassuringly, trying to help him get his breathing back under control. He almost didn't notice the hand on his neck sliding around till Sherlock's fingers were pressed at his carotid artery.

Sherlock slowly relaxed, leaning his forehead against John's, creating a small bubble of peace between them. They sat like that for a few minutes until Sherlock took a deep breath and straightened. He didn't move very far though, and John smiled at him. They got to their feet together, still standing rather close, until there was the clearing of a throat from the doorway. Their heads shot around and they jumped apart, seeing Lestrade standing at the door, smirk firmly in place. 

"Sorry to bother you two, but I have to talk to John about a certain gun..."


	3. Chapter 3

John finished writing up the paperwork on his last patient. He was so close to being done for the day, and he couldn't wait to go home and relax with a nice cup of tea and the new paperback he had borrowed from Sarah. He was exhausted after a long week of balancing cases and Sherlock's needs with work, and he needed the next few days to relax. 

His phone buzzed with a text and he absentmindedly grabbed it as he checked the clock. Another hour and two more patients and he was done for the week. He glanced at the text.

When you come home, bring your stethoscope. -SH

John frowned and typed out a quick response and turned his phone off, pressing the button that would bring his next patient in.

45 minutes later, John said goodbye to his last patient with a relieved smile. He sat down at his desk to finish the last bit of paperwork and grabbed his phone out of his drawer, turning it on. He ignored his phone as it buzzed almost continuously for about 12 seconds then, when it let off, glanced at the stream of messages. 

What do you want with it? -JW

Experiment -SH  
Please -SH  
It's very important -SH  
I won't break it -SH  
I'll buy a new one if I do -SH  
An innocent woman's alibi relies on it -SH  
Okay, that was just to stir your sympathies, but I really do need it -SH  
I hope my telling the truth helps solidify your positive answer -SH  
Why do you insist on turning off your phone, what if I were hurt? -SH  
When are you coming home -SH

I'll be home in 30 minutes -JW

Are you bringing it? -SH  
John? -SH

John could almost feel Sherlock's energy leaking from the flat as he walked up to the front door. He wondered if others on the street could feel it, almost see the cloud of manic energy hovering above them, or if it was just him because he was so attuned to said geniuses moods. 

Sherlock was laying out on the couch when John walked in, but sprang up immediately, stalking toward him in a way that had John raising a hand to stop him before he even took a second step into the flat. 

"Tea first, then you can explain what you want."

Sherlock beamed.

"So you did bring it!"

John ignored him and walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and turning to look back at Sherlock while he waited for it to boil. Sherlock hovered nervously at the border between the kitchen and living room, looking like he wanted to grab the bag sitting on a kitchen chair and run.

"So what do you want it for then?" John asked. Sherlock fidgeted, and glanced once more at the bag, before-

"Just an experiment, you see, I haven't had the motivation in the past to-"

"Sherlock, what are you going to do with it." 

"Could I, that is, I wonder. If I could take your pulse?" Sherlock finally managed. "I would like to see, ah, well. I- may I?"

John considered Sherlock but nodded once, turning to finish the tea while Sherlock sprung into motion. He grabbed John's bag and rushed into the living room. Sherlock sat on the couch watching him expectantly as John walked in with the tea, setting it on the coffee table.

"How do you want me?" John asked, perching on the edge of the couch. Sherlock pushed and prodded him back into a comfortable position, face up on the couch, a pillow stuffed under his head.

"So what's the point of this experiment?" He asked as Sherlock began fiddling with the stethoscope, placing the buds in his ears and grimacing as he tapped the bell too hard. Sherlock took a deep breath and opened his mouth with an imperious expression. John hurriedly interrupted. 

"Never mind if you're going to be a prat about it, you're smart enough to know how to make the explanation simple." Sherlock closed his mouth with a small click, eyes darting between John's. 

"I want to listen to your resting heart rate." John blinked in surprise, a little wary of the easy answer. Sherlock began while he was still trying to respond and instead he let the moment pass, closing his eyes and relaxing as Sherlock pressed the stethoscope to different parts of his chest, listening with intrigue before returning to the spot over his heart. 

John looked up at Sherlock, who had his own eyes closed as he concentrated. John let out a soft sigh as his eyes followed the swell of Sherlock's lips, the arches of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. Sherlock looked down at him, curiously meeting his gaze. 

The moment held, stretching soft and warm between them. John smiled softly, watching Sherlock's silvery eyes dart between his. Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly and John shifted to face him more.

"Something the matter?" John asked mildly.

"Your heart rate started to increase.. And your pupils are dilated." Sherlock seem uncertain. John frowned at first, but sat up once he realized what was being implied. Sherlock's hand fell away from John and he shuffled back as John stood, scooping up his tea and beating a quick retreat to the stairs. 

"I'm going to my room, put away my equipment." John made his way up the stairs quickly and sat on the edge of his bed, trying to sort out the sudden small rush of adrenaline in his system. He set down his mug, leaning back to lie flat on his back. He exhaled slowly, trying to ignore his pounding heartbeat and especially /whatever/ that had been downstairs..


	4. Chapter 4

John had gone out the next night after he got home from work, looking for a date. It had been a while, after all, Sherlock kept him so busy. But looking back now, maybe he just hadn't been thinking about it, too comfortable in his life with Sherlock. 

He shook his head, turning and catching the eyes of a girl sitting at the bar instead. He returned home triumphant with a new number in his phone and a date planned for the next day.  
~~~  
"-and you should've seen the color dress she was wearing, chartreuse, and it did /not/ go with her skin tone!" John felt like he'd maybe set himself up for this one. 

He normally tried to learn more about the women he dated before even the first date, but honestly he hadn't been paying much attention. Half of last night he had spent worriedly watching everybody who had walked in the door, afraid that Sherlock would come striding in the door to collect him for a case; the other half trying to find any sort of motivation to pull someone.

But this... This was pretty bad. He was almost wishing Sherlock would text him to come to a crime scene, or that he would come bursting in, sending his date off with a few well placed barbs and demanding John return home, or... Okay, maybe he was reaching. Really, the point was that he had been here less than twenty minutes with Rachel? Rebecca? And already he was wishing he had a way to politely end the date. 

He started slightly as his phone vibrated quietly in his pocket, realizing he hadn't been hearing a word Rebecca (Rachel?) had said in the last few minutes. He discreetly checked the message, frowning worriedly as he saw it was from Lestrade. 

What is your bpm?

John sent back a quick text, trying to smile sincerely at his date while his mind wondered about the nature of Lestrade's text. His phone buzzed again and he hurriedly opened the message.

???? -JW

This is Sherlock, what is your bpm right now?

Why do you have Lestrade's phone??-JW

John huffed as he sent the response, automatically loosening the cuff of one of his sleeves and pushing it down a bit so he could access the pulse point on his wrist. He checked the time and began counting, writing down the number but not sending it yet, as Sherlock hadn't responded. 

He subconsciously began another measurement, but was interrupted.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked (It had to be Rebecca). John glanced up from the clock, slightly surprised.

"What? Oh, I'm uh." John's mind went blank trying to come up with something plausible to tell her.

"I'm helping with an experiment, I assume." He finally managed. "My flat mate is a scientist." He heard the injected note of pride in his statement, but ignored it. Rebecca frowned.

"Your flat mate?" She asked dubiously. 

"Yeah, he's a consultant for the police, he's brilliant." John grinned easily for the first time that night. Rebecca's face soured more. 

"And you just up and do whatever he wants you to do whenever he wants you to do it? Without question? In the middle of a /date/?" She hinted. John blinked.

"Well, within reason I guess, but it might be important." He had tried to explain it to others before, he didn't understand what was so confusing about his willingness to go through with Sherlock's idiosyncrasies. If there was a chance it could help Sherlock save lives, it was important. His phone buzzed.

Unimportant, the measurements?

John sighed. He had taken a few more measurements while he and Rebecca had been talking, too used to talking while working for it to stop him. He sent them back to Sherlock quickly, frowning slightly as he saw how uneven the numbers were. He hadn't /felt/ like his emotions or exertions had been terribly varied while he had taken his pulse, but he hadn't been paying attention either. 

What is this for? -JW

He sent the second message quickly, looking up to see Rebecca watching closely. 

"Most people wouldn't do things like that for flat mates you know." She sounded snobby, and John was revisited by the urge to politely end the date. 

"Well we're pretty close friends too, I'd say. We've been through a lot together." Rebecca didn't look impressed. "Look, we're just... " John tried to blow it off, but couldn't find the words.

"You love him don't you." Rebecca stated. 

"/What?/" John nearly reared out of his seat. "Look, Rebecca-" He was cut off quickly.

"My name is Valerie and you haven't paid an ounce of attention to anything tonight except your flat mate and he's not even in the same building. Figure things out before you ask another girl on a date." She gathered her things and stood quickly. "Goodbye, John. Lose my number, yeah?"

John watched her depart, heart thumping in a way he could feel. In his hand, he could feel his mobile vibrate with another text. 

He carefully set his phone down, not looking at the text yet. 'Figure things out.' Like she (apparently not Rachel or Rebecca) even knew what she was talking about. John tapped his fingers gently on the table. Maybe he should go out with his mates, he always got better pulls when he was out with his friends anyways. He picked up his phone, pulling up his messages to send out a few texts to Lestrade and a few others, but he paused as he saw Sherlock's unread message. He sighed, but clicked into it. 

What was your subject of conversation when each reading was taken? 

John pinched his nose and signaled the waiter. He sent a quick text back, paid, and left the restaurant.

I don't remember -JW

He turned toward the park rather than 221B, a walk sounding like a better idea then returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break in posting, I lost the motivation to write /anything/ for a long while, then just busted this out in less than an hour? So here you go, sorry again D':


End file.
